Rise of a Dark Prince

Part 1

Author's Note: Before you continue reading, somewhere down the line, not this chapter but within the next three chapters, there will be some violent scenes. Not for litte kids and people who can't stand such stuff, basically.

Thanks for the reviews.

CHAPTER 3

Mort's patience was running thin. Besides him, Neville was in much the same mood. They were waiting in Malfoy Manor for Draco to finish getting ready for the Ministry Gala. Both had left Riddle Manor more than an hour ago and collected their passes from Dobby, the Malfoy's house elf, and were waiting for Draco out of courtesy. It had taken the two of them less than half an hour to get ready, even to meet the full expectations of the Dark Lord with their appearance, but Draco had already taken an hour longer.

Mort looked at Neville and nodded. His friend looked the epitome of pureblood class in his blue robes with black fastenings. Mort however, chose for subtle intimidation, much like the Dark Lord once used to. Wearing plain yet elegant black robes, he looked definitely a pureblood, but instead of a prince, he appeared more a warrior. With his appearance resembling that of the Dark Lord, though very few people such as Ollivander and Dumbledore would notice that, Mort had lengthened his hair to his shoulders. Walking with all the poise of his Master, he would be the perfect foil to the extravagant splendor he was sure Draco would appear in.

And he wasn't wrong. Draco entered the room with a sheepish grin, and Mort shook his head in exasperation.

"Green and Silver?" he questioned the blonde pureblood. "And with a black dragon." Then his eyes fell on a grotesque rod in his friend's hands. "Please tell me you are not seriously considering carrying that serpent scepter!"

"I think he is," Neville whispered in mock dismay.

Mort shook his head as Draco riled up at the criticism. "Forget it. I didn't say a word. You look great."

"Father is waiting for us in the courtyard," Draco said sulkily, eyeing his scepter with second thoughts.

Mort shook his head again, "Give our greetings to Lucius, but we only came for our passes. We are to go with Severus and pose as his distant cousins on his mother's side."

"Eileen Prince," Draco said musingly. "The Prince family was extensive and affluent in the past, but no longer. Poor Severus."

"Severus is just fine," Mort said in annoyance. Then his expression cleared, and he asked with sudden interest, "Say, Draco, will we see any of your friends from Hogwarts?"

"I suppose. Crabbe and Goyle will be there," he said in a bored voice. "I sincerely hope not but I am certain Pansy Parkinson will be there too."

"Your girlfriend?" Neville sniggered while Mort raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"At least, according to her," Draco said haughtily. "For me, I would consider her a less than adequate replacement to Dobby."

"Be nice to Dobby," Mort said distractedly. "I think Cricket likes him."

Draco's eyes bulged and he shook his head in disgust. "Please, Mort. Why must you insist on putting such horrible images in my head?"

Ignoring Neville's continuous sniggering, Mort turned to Draco seriously. "What about the people we met in Diagon Alley?"

"The Gryffindors?" Draco asked with, if possible, greater disgust. "Why do you care about them?"

"Just curious," Mort said quietly. His expression clouded somewhat. Both Neville and Draco noticed it and looked at each other, but Mort raised his eyebrow.

"I suppose," Draco said after a while. "The Potters should be there. The Weasleys? If they can afford the tickets, which I doubt. But perhaps the Potters might pay for them. They're close. The Mudblood Granger…"

"Draco," Mort interrupted dangerously.

"Right," Draco broke in hurriedly. "The Muggleborn Granger, I don't think so."

Mort nodded and followed Neville through the floo to Snape's residence. Soon, they were on their way to the Ministry Gala in Castle Whitemere, a Ministry of Magic owned property in the outskirts of London.

"Good Lord, Snape!" a voice came from the darkness where the portkey had dropped them. "You've been hiding two boys of your own all this while! And here we thought you had taken oaths of permanent celibacy or something!"

"Black," Snape acknowledged icily, with a tilt of his head as several figures came into sight. "Prewett. These are my distant cousins Mortimer and Neville Thomas." He frowned when Mort instantly stiffened at the sight of the newcomers.

"Hello boys," the man called Prewett said, shooting an irritated glance at Black. "This is Julia, my wife, and my daughter Gillian. She will start Hogwarts this year."

"Enchanted," Snape said politely and the two boys shook hands with the man, and greeted Julia and Gillian Prewett accordingly. Then Snape turned to the remaining people.

Black frowned, but introduced his family nevertheless. "My wife Susan, daughter Lucy, and sons Jerry and Reggie. Lucy will start Hogwarts next year. Jerry and Reggie, not for half a decade more."

"Hello," Mort said politely to the kids, but Sirius Black ushered them away. Shrugging, he turned to Snape, "Shall we proceed?"

Soon they were at the entrance, and two heavily armored guards were checking for entry passes. When Snape appeared with Mort and Neville, Lucius Malfoy emerged from within and took them right in, much to the chagrin of those in the queue. The guards stood aside with a bow, and Malfoy took them straight to the VIP seats.

"Minister Fudge," he said, indicating a short and plump man with a top hat. "May I introduce you to Mortimer and Neville Thomas, cousins of our most esteemed Potions Master, Severus Snape." He pointed to the three newcomers, and before anyone could say a word, he continued, "Draco is at the food table with his young friends, boys. Why don't you join him for now?"

Mort nodded. Malfoy knew what he was doing. With a bow, he grabbed Neville's arm and led him away, as the receding voice of the Minister fell on his ears, "Much refined and polished, those two. They are an honor to your family, Snape."

Draco was indeed at the food table, flanked by two huge boys that appeared to have the wit of a used tissue. Mort approached them and shook hands with all three, before a voice accosted them.

"Slimy Slytherins! What are they doing here?"

Mort turned to see the redhead from Diagon Alley look at them in contempt. Ron Weasley, Mort recalled his name.

Ron sneered smugly and continued, "This Gala is to show scum like you that you're losing the war!"

"Ron!" Hermione Granger called out in chagrin. She rushed over to the boy's side, followed by a group of people.

"Well, well, well," Draco said scornfully. "Weasleys and Mud… uhm… Muggleborns," he hastily turned to Mort for an instant, and then back at the others. "Fancy seeing you here. The Potters must have been big on charity this year."

"Damn you, Malfoy!" Ron yelled, retrieving his wand. There was silence instantly around them, and every single person around them expected Draco Malfoy to respond in kind, and he nearly did.

But then Mort touched his friend's arm. Turning to Ron, he said quietly and yet in a voice that carried to all those around them, "I suggest you put your wand aside. This is a friendly and peaceful festivity, and you are only disgracing yourself and your family by this overt show of aggression."

By then several adults had appeared, including Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Minister Fudge and an older redhead who appeared to be Ron's father.

"Arthur," Fudge said icily. "I would suggest you to warn your son from challenging others tonight. As young Mortimer has so wisely said, this is a night of peace and celebrations. If he really wants to have a go with young Mr. Malfoy, then we could arrange a special duel for them later."

"That will not be necessary, Minister," Arthur Weasley said, his cheeks red with shame. "My son is truly sorry for his misdemeanor. Aren't you, Ron?"

Mort stood aside as Ron Weasley was made to apologize Draco Malfoy in public and shook his head. The redhead was clearly not apologetic and was taking the ordeal as a personal insult. But then, Mort did not blame Draco for the earlier happenings. It was clearly Ron who was at fault.

He waited for the crowd to disperse and then returned to the table. Choosing some sandwiches from the trays and a glass of pumpkin juice, he drifted away, seeing Draco being lectured by his father and Neville in a conversation with Hermione Granger. He had a mission. Two missions, in fact, one for the Dark Lord, and one for himself.

And it was his personal mission that was easier to achieve first. Looking around, his eyes fell on them - the Potters. He resisted the rush of emotions - grief and loneliness from within, and observed them from a distance. Lily Potter, his mother, had become much thinner than she used to be. James Potter looked quite normal. They were standing with the Blacks and some other people, and the three Black children he had met earlier were with a tiny redhead, about the same age as the twin boys. Her face was identical to that of Lily Potter. She caught his eyes, noticed he was looking at her from afar and smiled. Mort forced himself to tear his gaze.

"Hey," he heard a soft musical voice and turned to his right. The redhead female Weasley was standing there with a crimson tinge on her face.

"Hello… Ginny, isn't it?" Most asked politely, beckoning to an empty chair beside him.

Nodding, the girl sat down next to him. "I want to apologize for my brother's behavior. He hardly ever thinks before saying or doing things. He is a thoughtless git."

Mort smirked. "That he is. But why are you apologizing to me?" he asked in confusion. "Neither of us was involved in what happened."

The girl blushed, and Mort raised his eyebrow in realization. The apology was an excuse to talk to him. The girl seemed to have a crush on him. Smiling, he said, "So are you looking forward to Hogwarts, Ginny?"

The girl nodded shyly and Mort sighed inwardly. Her perkiness from earlier seemed to be lost. But then she suddenly turned to Mort and asked, "Do you have a cousin called Tom Riddle?"

Mort started. He turned to Ginny in incredulity and suspicion. "Why do you ask?"

"You do, don't you?" Ginny exclaimed in triumph. "You look just like him!"

Mort suddenly got up and gently beckoned Ginny to a quiet corner. "How do you know that name?" When the girl hesitated, Mort frowned. "Ginny, please tell me. How do you know of Tom Riddle? This is for your own safety."

The girl took a step back. "W-What do you mean?"

"Ginny," Mort began again kindly. "Nobody is going to hurt you, but please tell me. How do you know of Tom Riddle?"

"There you are, Ginny. We thought you were lost," another male redhead came in view. "You don't want to miss the start of the dance, do you? Who is your new friend?"

"M-Mortimer Thomas," she introduced Mort with a gulp but her brother merely grinned.

"Pleased to meet you, Mortimer," the redhead said, shaking hands. "I am William Weasley, though most people call me Bill. I hope my sister isn't bothering you. She has had her eyes on you since the moment you arrived."

"It's Mort," he said. "Ginny is not bothering me. In fact, Ginny," Mort turned to the blushing girl and gave his hand, "May I have the pleasure of a dance?"

Leaving behind a smirking older brother, Mort led a still blushing Ginny to the dance floor. Only a few other couples were dancing, and instantly most eyes fell on the young couple.

"This is my favorite song," Ginny whispered as Mort slid his hand around her waist. He was suddenly glad Narcissa Malfoy had forced all three of them to learn how to dance and Cricket was as eager a teacher as Lady Malfoy. It was apparently an essential skill for a pureblood to have and would leave an impression on those present. But although Mort didn't mind dancing with a pretty girl, that wasn't the reason why he took Ginny to the dance floor.

"I'm glad you like it," he said as they danced. They continued dancing even when the song ended, and then Mort whispered in her ear, "Can you tell me now?"

Slowly, Ginny nodded. "I found a diary."

Mort nearly froze. "Ginny, does the diary write back?"

"Yes. How did you know?" she asked curiously.

Mort sighed. This wasn't good. He wasn't even sure what to do. The Dark Lord had only ever mentioned the diary in passing, and how important it was to him, giving no further details. It shouldn't be in the hands of Ginny Weasley. It could not only be dangerous to her but also to the Dark Lord, and Mort wasn't sure what to do. If the Dark Lord had indeed intended for this to happen, then his own involvement would make him angry. And yet. There was something in Ginny's innocent gaze that made him decide.

"Ginny, do not write to Tom Riddle. Please promise me, do not write to Tom," Mort said urgently.

"Why not?" she retorted petulantly. "Tom is my best friend." Her only friend. The thought remain unsaid but was clear between the two.

"You cannot trust an object which thinks for itself and you cannot see where it keeps its brain," Mort repeated a pureblood mantra that parents often told their children, knowing that Ginny would also have been told of it.

"Daddy says that too, but Tom is nice to me. And he looks like you. He is good," she said obstinately, and Mort sighed.

"Ginny, I'll be your friend. You can write to me, okay? But please don't write to Tom."

The girl thought for a few moments as they walked out of the dance floor, ignoring the applause from spectators. "Okay, Mort."

Sighing in relief, Mort took her back to her family and searched for Neville, who chose that very instant to leave the dance floor with Hermione. Draco also walked towards them.

"Potter and Weasley aren't too pleased," Draco remarked as he approached Mort.

"What do you mean?"

"They've been glaring at both you and Neville since you went to the dance floor. I'd say they're jealous you got their girls."

"Oh come on, Draco," Mort said in exasperation. He was getting a bit tired with the events of the evening. "They're just annoyed that Gryffindors are fraternizing with friends of a Slytherin."

"What's bugging you?" Neville asked as they walked to their seats in the front. The duels were about to commence. "You've been a bit off all evening."

Mort shook his head, muttering, "Fools! We'll know their weaknesses before this night is out." But then he froze. He hadn't noticed the seating arrangement earlier carefully. The Malfoys were right next to the Potters, and he was to sit besides Lily Potter.

"Good Evening, Ma'am," Neville said politely as Lily Potter came to take her seat with her children. Her husband was participating in the duel. She smiled at Neville, and Mort also greeted her.

The instant her eyes fell on Mort, she hesitated, but then shaking her head, she sat down between her children, deliberately placing Jake on the other side from Mort. She had observed the little animosity from earlier. But there was something about the boy that drew her. His haunting green eyes reminded her so much of her own eyes, and those of her eldest son's.

"You are making quite an impression here, Mortimer," Lily said when everyone had taken their seats.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Potter?" Mort asked curiously.

"Quite a few people have been talking about you, young man. The Minister commended the maturity with which you dealt the earlier situation between your friend and Ron," she said, and then added, "And all the women are dying to have a dance with you."

Mort tried hard not to blush and turned to Emily, his sister. "Hello. I am Mort. What is your name?"

"Millie!" she said ecstatically, glad to be part of the conversation. "Mummy calls me Em'ly, but daddy calls me Millie, and Paddie calls me Em."

Mort smiled at the exuberant five year old. "So if everybody has a different name for you, I should have one too, right? How about Emmy? Can I call you Emmy?"

The girl, if possible, looked even happier. She smiled joyfully with childish innocence at Mort and nodded. "I like Emmy."

Mort opened his mouth but was interrupted by a laugh from Lily. He stared at the woman who had abandoned him and felt a sudden yearning. But he turned away and stared at the duel.

Sirius Black and Fabian Prewett were dueling. It was a standard practice match and Mort found it highly boring. Soon he tuned it out and started playfully nudging his sister. Within moments, he had Emily squealing in laughter, much to the annoyance of her other brother and several other guests.

"Hush," Lily scolded her daughter.

"It's my fault, Mrs. Potter," Mort said hastily. "I'm sorry."

Ignoring the woman's platitudes, he fixed his attention back at the duel. James Potter was now going against Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody. It was a more interesting duel and Mort was getting drawn in when he suddenly felt a finger jab into his abdomen sharply and yelped. Turning to his side, he saw Emily grinning in delight, and he felt a sudden yearning in his heart. He was seized by a sudden desire to embrace the little kid, but he knew he couldn't. It would be disapproved of. He couldn't even hug his sister. Feeling his eyes dampening, he quickly got up and excusing himself, left.

He walked out of the arena and to a quiet corner. Staying in Riddle Manor with the Dark Lord and his followers, he had placed his sorrows and yearnings behind. But sitting right next to his one-time family, it wasn't as easy. All his past fears and grief came rushing to him and he didn't even notice when he started crying. And he didn't notice when he was pulled into an embrace.

It was several minutes later when he saw a tiny figured latched onto his legs that he realized he wasn't alone. Gulping, he jumped back and balked in disbelief. He had been crying in Lily Potter's shoulder and Emily Potter was holding on to his legs, crying herself.

"I… I…" he stammered, unable to say, or even think, anything coherent.

"Hush," Lily said gently. "It's alright."

Mort shook his head. It wasn't alright, but he couldn't explain that to them. He schooled his emotions. The Dark Lord would be most displeased. He turned blank eyes on the woman and said, "I am sorry, Mrs. Potter… I… I should have a sister… but I don't… Emily reminds me of her."

Lily nodded sadly. "Emily should also have another brother. Perhaps there is some greater power at play that brought us all together."

Mort sighed. "I would like to think so." The Dark Lord. His Master must have known how dearly he wanted to see his sister. He knelt down to face Emily. "Hey Emmy, will you be my sister?"

The little girl nodded rapidly. "Mort, my burther," she squealed joyfully, and Mort couldn't resist hugging her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter," Mort said quietly, still holding Emily. "I will always remember tonight. The day I found my sister."

--------

"Yes, boy," the Dark Lord said in his usual emotionless and monotonic voice. "I did intend for you to meet your former family and your sister."

"Why, Master?" Mort asked curiously, yet with much respect.

"Blood and Family, boy, they are both important. The rest of your family may have given up on you, but your sister never had the chance." The Dark Lord read a parchment and continued, "Lucius says you impressed quite a few people last night. I am pleased."

Mort hesitated. "Master," he said finally, not knowing how else to raise the topic. "I also learnt something disturbing."

"What do you mean, boy?"

"The youngest Weasley girl," Mort said with his eyes lowered. "She said she found a diary among her books with the name Tom Riddle written on the front. She said it wrote back to her, and showed her memories of his life."

The Dark Lord stayed silent.

"She wasn't lying. She knew I looked like Tom Riddle."

The Dark Lord took a deep breath and stood up. "What did you tell her?"

"I made her promise not to write on it. In return, I told her I would correspond with her. Have I erred, Master?"

The Dark Lord regarded his Apprentice in silence. "No. You have done well, boy. Go back to your chamber. I will deal with this." He touched the Dark Mark on his arm as he finished speaking, and Mort shuddered. Somebody was going to be in a lot of pain that night. As he left, he heard the Dark Lord whisper quietly, "Lucius Malfoy."

Mort rushed to his chamber and picked up a parchment and a quill.

'Hello Ginny,

This is Mort and I promised to write to you. Please don't think that I am only sending you a letter to keep you from writing to Riddle. The thing is, I don't have any friends save my brother and Draco, and I would love to think of you as one.

I cannot write to you too often, as my tutors are very demanding, and I am always given a lot of work. But I will write as often as I can. My owl will wait for you to reply as I live in a highly secured place and ordinary owls will not be able to find me. Her name is Hedwig and she likes owl treats. She also thinks very highly of herself… ouch… that was her biting my finger. Just for that, I should stop reading my letter out loud to her.

So, tell me more about yourself. I met Bill and I have met Ron, both are so different. Do you have any other siblings? Anyway, I will be expecting your letter.

Mortimer.'

He then got up and opened the mirror link he had with the Dark Lord's courtroom. He blinked when he saw Lucius Malfoy still under the Cruciatus. The Dark Lord had never punished the aristocrat for more than a minute. But then, he had been very clear in his instructions that Malfoy was not to mess with the diary.

"What's so special about the diary?" he spoke out loud to himself.

---------

Ginny Weasley was confused. She held the letter in one hand and the diary in the other. She looked at the stunning snowy-white owl, Hedwig, and frowned. Mortimer had been so nice to her. He had even danced with her, just her, and no one else. And yet. Tom had promised to always be there for her.

She frowned on reading the letter. Why couldn't he come to Hogwarts too? Then it would be an easy choice. She would much rather have a real friend than a diary. But if she couldn't see Mort in person and letters would come between long delays, then perhaps she should keep the diary. She shook her head. No matter what, a real friend was worth more than a diary.

Having decided, she picked up a quill and wrote:

'Dear Mort

Thank you for your letter. I have never received one before. Bill teased me awfully, he knew it would be you who wrote. Ron was angry. He said if I didn't watch out, I'd be sorted into Slytherin. Do you think that would make me bad? Oops. Draco is a Slytherin, isn't he? Ron and Jake keep saying he is evil, but Hermione frowns whenever they say that.

Oh, Emily Potter can't stop talking about you. She keeps saying she found her lost brother. Mrs. Potter almost cried last night. Do you know what she meant? Professor Dumbledore was at the Potters' last night too, asking about you and your brother. He talked to me. I didn't tell him anything except that we danced and became friends. Ron said you were all slimy snakes. He didn't believe me, I think, or Ron. Because, I had a headache afterwards, and the image of Riddle's diary was in my head for quite a while. Do you think he read my mind? I think he did. I don't want him to take the diary. I wrote many secrets in it. Can I send it to you? I know you will keep it safe. But you must not ask Tom for my secrets!

I have many brothers. Bill is the best. Charlie is nice, but a bit like Ron, only more grown up. Percy is a bigger git than Ron. He never talks to me unless in scolding. The twins love to prank me, but they are afraid of me too. I can prank them back. That's all about me, plain old Ginny.

Ginny.'

The redhead handed the parchment to the waiting owl and hesitating, asked, "Can you carry the diary too?" The owl hooted, clearly offended by the lack of confidence, and Ginny giggled, "Mort was right. Sorry Hedwig, you are a beautiful owl." She handed the diary to the waiting owl, and watched as Hedwig soared out the window. She was lost in the flight of the owl and was roused by a knock on her door.

"Ginny, can you come down, dear? There's someone here to see you."

"That must be Professor Dumbledore," Ginny muttered under her breath. "Just in time."

--------

Mort smiled as he held the diary. The Dark Lord would be pleased. Then he frowned. Dumbledore was using Legilimency on Ginny. He prayed that his new friend wouldn't get into too much trouble for this little act. But then he put that thought out of his mind. No matter how much trouble she got into with her parents and Dumbledore, it couldn't be as bad as having the Dark Lord's personal diary with her.

Then he frowned. The diary. What was so special about it? Hesitating, he debated whether to write on it or not when the image of Lucius Malfoy's twitching body came to his mind and he instantly got up. The diary was not worth the trouble. It was clearly precious to the Dark Lord. He would be pleased to have it back.

So he transformed into his eagle form, and flew to the Dark Lord's courtroom with the diary in his claws. Dropping it in the lap of his surprised Master, he transformed back into his human form and bowed.

"Master," he said respectfully. "The youngest Weasley decided it was safer with me than with Dumbledore. She thinks the Headmaster has been using Legilimency on her. He has been asking about Neville and I."

The Dark Lord hear Mort's tale in silence and then smiled. He got up and in a rare show of emotion, clasped his Apprentice's shoulder. "You have done well, Mortimer. You have done very well."

"Master," Mort said reverently.

"You may keep the diary, boy," the Dark Lord said. "You have proven yourself worthy of such responsibility. It will aid you when I may not be able to, but be wary of it. And keep it safe at all times." The Dark Lord paused, looking at Mort, then asked, "You seek something else?"

With much boldness, Mort asked, "Would the diary have hurt her?"

The Dark Lord looked at Mort severely. "Undoubtedly. It would have taken her life. As it will yours, if you are not wary."

"Then I did the right thing. I do not wish for her to die, Master, though she is on the side of your enemies," he said respectfully, but firmly. "I ask for her life."

The Dark Lord nodded. "There is no reason for her to die… yet." Then he raised his eyebrow and asked with amusement, "Do you desire her?"

Mort blinked. He knew what the Dark Lord meant. "Master, I am only twelve." Then thinking, he added, "I would like to have her as a friend."

The Dark Lord shook his head and said sharply, "You and I, boy," the Dark Lord paused to highlight the importance of what he was about to say, "are doomed to be friendless. Do not let anything or anyone become a weakness for you. There should be none who can command a depth of emotion from you so deep that you would relinquish your own life to keep them safe."

Mort hesitated before saying, "Forgive me, Master," he hesitated again. Then lowering his eyes, he continued, "You command such emotion from me."

The Dark Lord didn't say anything for awhile. Instead he returned to his seat and waved his hand. It was then that Mort noticed they weren't alone. There was a hooded figure in a dark corner of the courtroom. It was the spy whose identity had been kept secret from even his Inner Council.

"I wish to introduce you to my spy, Apprentice," the Dark Lord said. "I was about to assign him the task of fetching my diary, which you have taken care of."

"Come forward," the Dark Lord ordered to the hooded figure, and rising, the person knelt before the Dark Lord. Mort was standing to the right of the Dark Lord's throne and gasped audibly when the person removed the hood covering their face.

"My Lord," the figure said. Then turning to Mort, added, "Lord Apprentice."

"You!" Mort asked in disbelief. Then he smiled. "Wonderful, Master. If I may be excused, I have to say farewell to Draco before he leaves for Hogwarts tomorrow morning."

---------

'Dear Ginny,

Do not worry about that diary any longer. It is safe. It is with me. And I swear I will not pry into your privacy.

I heard from Draco Malfoy that you were sorted into Slytherin. Congratulations. That does not make you bad at all! No! And do not listen to anyone who says otherwise. Talk to Bill, he seemed a nice person. I have told Draco to keep an eye on you, which means nobody in Slytherin House will annoy you. You have my word. Do not be annoyed with my interfering so, a Weasley would have suffered terribly in Slytherin otherwise. If anyone does bother you, then let me know. If anyone so much as touches you, they will pay for it dearly. Go straight to Professor Snape. Okay?

If you ever need to send me a letter urgently, seal it and give it to Professor Snape or Draco. They will give it to me.

Until then, your friend

Mort.'

Mort sighed. The girl Weasley was fast occupying a major portion of his mind, more than he could afford to devote to her. He had already been reprimanded twice by Bella for not paying attention during lessons. Shaking his head clear, he dipped his quill in the inkpot once again, before writing yet another letter.

'Dear Emmy,

I know you can't read this yet, but I hope Mrs. Potter reads it to you. I miss you, little sister, and I hope you are being a good girl.

I don't know when your birthday is, but seeing as I have missed so many of them, I am sending you a special gift. I made this pendant myself, honest. My tutor made me do exercises for wand subtleties, that is, using your wand to make perfect movements by cutting gemstones. I cut this one and shaped it with my wand from a moonstone. The chain is simple silver but charmed to keep you warm when you are cold, and cool when you're hot. I chose to shape the pendant as a unicorn because it is the purest and gentlest creature in the world. I hope you like it.

Mrs. Potter, please do not read this to Emily. I know you might think this is an expensive gift, but it truly is not. And if you honestly meant what you said that day, then you will not decline it. My owl will not be waiting as she has other letters to deliver, but if Emily wishes to send me a letter, please direct it through Professor Snape.

Mortimer.'

Mort hesitated. He realized he was putting Severus Snape in a spot of bother. If Dumbledore was honestly prying into finding more about him and Neville, then this letter would surely direct him straight to Snape. He hesitated again. But after a few moments, he decided to go ahead. After all, the Dark Lord himself had created his artificial relationship with Snape and sent him to the Ministry Gala. This could hardly be much more of an issue.

--------

The spy was smiling. He was happy. The meeting with the Dark Lord had gone better than he could have expected, and now he was in the Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts. He was the first to arrive but he didn't have to wait too long. Snape and Potter arrived next, simultaneously, but through separate routes - Snape through the door, and Potter through the Floo. Soon, the rest of the people arrived. The Order of the Dragon was growing, and the spy was an integral part of it.

Dumbledore called the meeting to order. They were all gathered. He waited for everyone to take a seat and finish exchanging pleasantries. He was in a good mood. His spy had entered deep into the confidence of Voldemort and had brought news - disturbing, yes, but news, nevertheless. Picking up his teaspoon, he clinked it against his teacup bringing immediate attention.

"Lord Voldemort has an Apprentice," he announced. For several seconds, there was silence and then pandemonium broke out. Dumbledore sighed. He had expected this very reaction. He clanged his spoon again, but the noise was drowned out. He glanced at his spy, who shrugged. Then he turned to Snape, who had paled.

"Severus," Dumbledore began, and the noise started fading. "I am also aware of the Obscuring Charm placed on you. Do not take your failure in this to heart, my friend."

Snape nodded briskly and frowned. "How did you find out, Albus?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I was afraid your position was becoming rather tenuous, so I took the liberty of putting in place another spy. He has been of utmost use. Do not fret, my boy, your role in this is to keep suspicion from my other spy."

"Who is this spy, Albus?" James Potter asked curiously. He had heard nothing of another spy until then.

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. "I am afraid I cannot say. It is for his own protection." Then Dumbledore turned to Snape, and said, "Oh, another thing, my boy, I am afraid I will have to start putting Obscuring Charms on you for Order meetings from now on. It is much too dangerous for the news to leak out, even by accident."

"I see," Snape said coldly. "Very well."

"I would also like to meet your cousins someday, Severus," Dumbledore said, as if absent-mindedly. "I have been hearing much of them since the Gala. It seems strange that they are not attending Hogwarts."

Snape sighed. "I will see what can be done."

----------

"So you cannot tell me anything else," Mort said in disappointment. When the Potions Master didn't give any response, he nodded. "So Dumbledore is also protecting his information. And he wants to meet me and Neville?"

"You, more than Neville," Snape corrected. "We have been sloppy. Ollivander, Fudge, Lily Potter, William Weasley, they have all talked about you specifically, Mort. Dumbledore wishes to meet you."

"Does he know I am his Apprentice?" Mort asked curiously.

Snape remained silent.

Mort nodded. "So this is part of the obscured information. I must assume the worst then. He believes I could be the Apprentice?"

Snape continued to remain silent.

"Very well," Mort sighed. "Have you spoken to the Dark Lord about this?"

Snape shook his head. "I fear he would be most displeased."

"That he would," Mort agreed. Then he shook his head. "He is busy with the negotiations in Germany. Disturbing him with this would be hurtful to the cause. We must settle this on our own. What is your advice?"

Snape pondered thoughtfully for a while. "If he sees you, he will recognize you. He remembers Tom Riddle well."

"Unless I go in disguise," Mort said musingly.

Snape sighed. "That is not an option. Dumbledore is clever, he will insist on verifying it is truly you."

"How would he do that?"

Snape shook his head. "The easiest way would be to involve Lily Potter or William Weasley."

Mort sighed. He saw the problem. "So meeting him is not an option for me."

"It is not," Snape agreed. "We must find a way to distract him from going after you."

"Young massster," the hissing voice of Nagini came from the ground as it slithered towards Mort.

"Good to see you, Nagini," Mort hissed. "I trust your hunt was successful." Mort grinned when Snape almost instantly masked his sudden astonishment. Even after all these years, he could not get over the Parseltongue.

"Yesss," the serpent hissed. "I heard your dilemma. Thisss is what a serpent would do…"

"Go on," Mort prodded.

"Wear a different face and establish that as the face of His Apprentice to the outside world."

"Brilliant!" Mort jumped up. "Absolutely brilliant! Severus, now I know why snakes represent cunning and wiles." Turning to Nagini, he added, "Thank you, my friend. Will you take a permanent place in my council?"

"I have always been at your service, Lord Mortimer," the serpent hissed, but Mort frowned.

"No. Just Mortimer, or Lord Apprentice. Whatever I do, I do it in the name of my Master."

And so the plans were made. Mort approached the Dark Lord the next day at breakfast and said, "Master, I wish to lead a Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade."

The Dark Lord looked at his Apprentice thoughtfully. "Why?"

Mort bowed. He wouldn't lie to his Master. "Severus fears my identity as your Apprentice has been leaked. I seek to mislead our enemies by appearing in a different face."

The Dark Lord nodded thoughtfully. "A cunning plan. You will take Bella, Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, Nott and a score Dementors. Remember, you have no other aim but to make your face known. And you will go to Diagon Alley. Hogsmeade is well protected by the staff of Hogwarts."

"That was the idea, Master," Mort said with a frown. "To show my false face to Dumbledore."

"Do not be a fool, boy," the Dark Lord hissed in irritation. "He would realize your ploy instantly. Do you think the Headmaster would hesitate using Legilimency to snatch an image of your face from the minds of the witnesses in Diagon Alley?"

Mort's cheeks reddened with a twinge of shame, but he bowed. "Very well, Master."